Letter to Hogwarts
by TheSummerNightingale
Summary: How our brave, awkward little Gryffindor came to be - a take on Neville's story of how he got his letter to Hogwarts. Written for the Gemstone Challenge.


**Written for the Gemstone Challenge (Moonstone)!**

**As usual, I hope you all enjoy!**

**Disclaimers: I don't own any of this except for the specific events of this fic. J.K. Rowling owns everything else.**

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Neville Longbottom sat on the edge of his bed, staring out at the sky. It was a nice day outside, the sky a sweet, clear blue. A refreshing breeze blew through the open window. It was ideal weather for his long-anticipated birthday.

And this wasn't just any birthday, mind you. This was his eleventh birthday.

Downstairs, he heard the clanking of pots and pans. Gran was cooking her famous turkey, in preparation for his birthday lunch in a half-an-hour. They were going to St. Mungo's, to visit his parents.

It occurred to him that he should probably get dressed and ready (after all, that was what Gran had sent him up to his room to do). But he decided he could put it off for a while longer.

He looked around the room. It was almost completely bare, the walls a plain blue, except for a few photos tacked on the wall. Everything was neat and orderly - his grandmother insisted Neville cleaned his room every day; she often told him, "If you don't keep your room tidy, then you'll never be able to find anything in it!"

Unfortunately, Neville always seemed to be losing things anyway, whether his room was neat or not.

He got up and walked to his nightstand. On the wall was perhaps his most prized possession - a photo of his parents when they had been in Hogwarts. Alice and Frank. Head Girl and Head Boy of Gryffindor. Known as some of the most brilliant Aurors of their time.

A sinking feeling set in Neville's stomach as he fingered the photo, watching his mother laugh as his father started tickling her. He looked at them sadly.

"Sorry, Mum. Sorry, Dad. I guess I won't be able to live up to your reputations," he said quietly, tracing the outline of his father's face.

Neville walked to his window and leaned against the frame. Acceptance letters from Hogwarts should have come by now - Great Uncle Algie had said that he should expect it mid-July. But July 31 wasn't exactly "mid-July".

He supposed that he just didn't have enough magic in him - maybe the magic that he possessed simply wasn't enough. Neville accepted that.

But it was the fact that his mum and dad would never hear stories about him going to Hogwarts; the fact that he would disappoint everyone who regarded him as Frank and Alice Longbottom's son and expected great things of him; the fact that Gran had been looking forward to this day since he was born that made Neville so desperately search the skies for an owl bearing his acceptance letter.

A call came from downstairs. "Neville, dear!"

"Yes, Gran?" he called back, turning to his open door.

"Would you mind coming down and packing all the utensils? We're leaving soon!"

"Sure, Gran," Neville said, but he didn't move.

"Neville?"

"Yes?"

"Don't you go worrying about Hogwarts, now. Just remember, it's your birthday today!"

Neville let out a hesitant smile and stood up straight. Gran could be awfully strict sometimes, but she always knew exactly what to say. He cast a quick glance out his window, then took a few steps towards the door, before he whipped back around (nearly tripping on his feet in the process).

Was it just his imagination or was that…?

He ran to his open window and stuck his head out, his eyes wide in anticipation as he searched to see the dark figure in the sky. His heart gave a giant lurch as a wing peeked out of a tree, and there it was - there was his ow-

Pigeon. Neville's bright eyes and large smile slowly melted off his face as a fat pigeon shot from the concealment of the trees, gave a squawk, and zoomed off into the distance, a few of its friends trailing behind him. Of course. It was just a lousy, old pigeon.

Neville pulled his head back from the window, and dejectedly pulled the glass shut. He supposed he would just have to tell his parents the news that he was a Squib (or at least, half of one).

He walked towards the door again, only to be stopped in his tracks by a loud noise (it sounded like an Exploding Snap card) from behind him. And immediately after that, a shadow crossed the room, muffling Neville in its dark, cold blanket.

Neville froze up. Whatever it was, that was behind him, it was more than enough to scare him out of his wits.

It couldn't be a ghost, right? Gran had told him that ghosts didn't like to roam around during the day, especially not when there were so many Muggles around. But maybe they had made an exception this time. Maybe they had come to take him away because he didn't have enough magic in him.

Well, better to face it now, he thought. His parents had been brave. The least he could do was turn around, and…

Neville let out a high-pitched scream. On his window, there was something stuck on the other side of the glass pane. He let out a whimper. The something was almost as large as the window, dark brown, and _moving_.

He backed into the corner of his room, as far from the window as possible. What in the world was an _owl_ doing on the other side of his window?

Of course, the answer hit him (rather like the Bludger had hit him that one time he'd tried playing Quidditch) over the head almost right after, and Neville's fear immediately morphed into, well, less fear and more curiosity and hope.

He cautiously walked to the window - owls were owls, whether they were from Hogwarts or not. Owls meant talons, and talons meant scratches all over your body; that was all there was to it - and he shakily opened the pane, cringing at the loud squawk of the barn owl.

Neville watched in half-fascination, half-fear as the owl pried itself off the pane one wing at a time, its feathers ruffling in the wind. When it was finally satisfied, the bird glared straight into Neville's eyes (he almost fainted, but that also might have been because just then, he saw the letter in the bird's claws) and indignantly flew into his room.

The large owl dropped the envelope on his nightstand, and zoomed back out the window, casting one last haughty look with its beady black eyes at Neville. It seemed to be quite irritated that Neville had closed the window on it.

Neville watched as the owl extended its majestic wings out into the sky, flying higher and further until it was a speck in the distance. He then exhaled, his heart still beating quickly, and he disbelievingly turned to his bed, rubbing his eyes.

Yes. He hadn't imagined it. The envelope was there.

He slowly walked to his bed and picked up the sealed letter. There was his name written on it in green ink: _Mr. Neville Longbottom._

Hardly daring to believe it, he turned the letter to the back, where there was a wax seal bearing the Hogwarts coat of arms. A symbol he had seen countless times, but never really had it for himself.

Neville excitedly pulled the wax seal up (he did that a little too hard, and the wax was accidently plucked off the envelope) and took out the letter.

He marvelled at the feel of the parchment in his hand, which was shaking in anticipation.

_Dear Mr. Longbottom,_

_We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry…_

He read every word of his beautiful acceptance letter, a goofy grin forming on his face as he fingered the parchment and started rushing out of his room in utter joy to show his grandmother, still reading his supplies list.

Which turned out to be a rather unwise idea, because no sooner did he put down his first step on the stair did he slip, his legs flying out from underneath him. Neville let out a long whimper as he clung onto his letter for dear life, bouncing and rolling his way down the flight of stairs into the sitting room.

He landed on his buttocks with a slam, his arms and legs almost hurting as much as they had that time he'd fallen out of a tree. As he groaned and got up, his gran rushed into the living room, brandishing a spatula.

"What happened, Neville?" she said, fiercely looking around the room.

"I fell down the stairs," he said, smiling sheepishly, brushing off his pajamas.

Gran huffed as she brought down the spatula and said, "Nearly gave me a heart attack, sweetheart! Wouldn't want you getting hurt on your birthday, would we?" She paused and noticed his clothes. Her eyes narrowed strictly. "Neville, why aren't you changed yet? Didn't I send you up there to get changed?"

It was with a lurch of happiness that he remembered exactly what he was holding in his hand. "I promise I was going to, Gran, but then I got this."

He gave her the letter, bouncing on the balls of his feet with excitement. His grandmother squinted at the small words on the parchment. "I don't have my spectacles on, Neville, dear. What is it?"

Neville let out a proud smile, cherishing the words as he slowly said, "Gran...it's my acceptance letter to Hogwarts."

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**How was that? I'm not really familiar with writing Neville's character, so this was a fun little taste of how it's like :)**

**Anyway, as always, please review and give all and any feedback! I'd love to see what I can improve with on my writing!**


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